


A Language That I Never Knew Existed Before

by Gizzwhizz



Series: Kings of Nowhere [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety and Relationsips, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Ignis POV, M/M, Magical Medicine, Talk of Past Relationships, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10055093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gizzwhizz/pseuds/Gizzwhizz
Summary: Ignis deals with the fallout of Prompto's anxiety.Set during chapters 20 and 21 of Shadows Will Scream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here you are, folks: a look at Ignis' side of things between chapters 20 and 21 of Shadows Will Scream. It is important that you've read through chapter 20 of SWS, or this isn't going to make much sense, unfortunately.
> 
> The title is taken from "All This And Heaven Too" by Florence + The Machine because that is the most Ignis song I think I've ever heard in my life.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to take the blond by the shoulders and _shake_ him until he understood the danger he had put himself in. He could feel the slight tug and pull of his driving gloves as he flexed his fingers at his sides. It took more effort than he might have expected to turn away and face the door. 

“Iggy?” Prompto asked and his voice was so small. Like a child’s. Terrified at having upset a parent or a favorite teacher. But Ignis was neither of those things. 

“As you’ve pointed out, I have a bad habit of letting my temper get the best of me,” Ignis said, choosing each word with care and doing his best to keep his voice even, professional. “Therefore, I am going to go out and run a few errands. We will continue this conversation later.” 

He didn’t look at Prompto, eyes still fixed on the door to their room. It might not be an ideal solution, but he had been privy more than once to the damage his temper could cause and Prompto didn’t deserve that. The phrases that Prompto had written at the back of his journal were seared into his mind like brands. Ignis refused to do anything that might reinforce those thoughts, not this time. 

“Ignis,” Prompto whispered, and it was so rare for the gunner to use his full name that Ignis nearly turned back to him. If he did, however, he knew he would stay. Stay when what he needed most just then was fresh air and time to think. 

“Don’t.” Prompto’s final plea had him striding for the door before he could change his mind. 

“I will return before dark,” he promised, and then he made his escape. They had made good time on their drive back to Lestallum and it was only mid-morning, despite how tired his body felt. He stopped at a vending machine in the hotel lobby to purchase a can of Ebony before making his way out into the sun soaked streets. 

Lestallum seemed emptier than he remembered. There were fewer groups of tourists and less throngs of screaming children to navigate around. This was certainly not surprising after a raid by Imperial forces, but it did make the city seem more lackluster. Ignis found himself both relieved to avoid the crush of other bodies in the heat of the city and a bit saddened by the change. 

He sipped his Ebony as he wandered, predictably, to the market. Over the course of their journey, he had found that mentally categorizing their stores of supplies was both automatic and somewhat soothing. A menial task though it was, it allowed him to clear his mind and focus on clear goals, such as how he might next attempt to get Noct to eat a nutritionally balanced meal. 

As he wound between the stalls, however, he found himself drifting automatically towards sweeter ingredients and he knew at once what would help calm him down. He perused the stalls for fresh berries, even though he knew they wouldn’t have exactly what he needed, and considered the merits of a few different varieties of flour offered at one stall. Finally, he completed his purchases with a jar of brutal bee honey. He already knew Noct would immediately complain that the tart he’d had in Tenebrea had never had any honey in it, but it might lend the dessert some of the moisture that it had lacked in Ignis’ latest iterations. 

Purchases secured in a paper bag in one arm, he discarded his empty can of Ebony and consulted his phone. It was barely past noon and truth be told he wasn’t ready to return to the hotel just yet. He still had no clear plan for what he would say to Prompto. Part of him wasn’t surprised at the blond’s vehement refusal to use his guns on an “ordinary” person. Prompto had always been the most gentle and least experienced of the four of them. But even so, the younger man needed to realize that not all the enemies they came across would be beasts or abominations. What if it came to a fight against Ravus or some other high ranking Niflheim officer? Prompto was a Crownsguard and that meant he had to be prepared to protect Noct from any danger, no matter the source. 

Besides all of that, his blatant refusal to act would surely have gotten him killed against an enemy that was truly fighting them, instead of merely teasing the way Aranea had been. Ignis still felt vaguely sick at the memory of Prompto pinned beneath the Captain, her spear cracking the pavement inches from Prompto’s skull. Only a few days ago Ignis had rushed blindly through darkness and rain with no idea if Prompto would live to thank him for it. 

And only a few hours ago Prompto had been in a similar position once more, and chosen to do nothing to help himself. 

At the crinkle of paper, Ignis realized that he was gripping the paper bag with his purchases a bit too tightly and relaxed his hold least the flour split opened. He retreated to the slightly cooler shadows of a small alcove and pushed his glasses up his nose, looking out over the crowd without seeing them. He sought to distract himself with more thoughts of their supplies, carefully going over their store of curatives in his head. 

And just like that, his mind was back to Prompto. Prompto’s curative. Of which they only had one remaining. He frowned at the thought, thinking back on Prompto’s rapid deterioration the day before when the effects had begun to wear off. Rebound anxiety, he had called it. The next batch would need to alleviate that problem. He had already decided to recruit Noct’s help this time—with Prompto’s permission, of course—but there was research still to be done on the topic. 

Hesitating to enjoy the slight drop in temperature in the shade for a bit longer, Ignis exited the market and turned down the side street he’d traveled with Prompto on their first visit to the city. Dr. Olmstead’s small practice was easier to find now that he knew to look for the tiny sign dangling above the door. He’d nearly missed it the first time, but that was how things were in Lestallum. The city was a maze until one realized that the devil was in the details: tiny changes in tile or stone distinguishing one storefront from another. The bell above the door twinkled merrily as he entered and, just as before, it was blessedly cool and dim inside. 

“Yes? Oh, my dear! How are you?” the old woman, Dr. Olmstead, said as soon as he’d entered. She came around the counter with a speed that belied her age and had taken his bag before he could protest, setting it aside on the counter so she could look him over. 

“Very well, thank you,” Ignis replied, too caught off guard to remember to ask after her in return. If she noticed the slip in manners, or even cared, she didn’t mention it. 

“I’m so glad. The city hasn’t been the same since those Imperial brutes came tramping through. See what they did to my window?!” She put both hands on her bony hips and nodded to the window behind him. Ignis turned and noticed for the first time that one of the panes had been broken and was covered over by some dark fabric. 

“What a disgrace,” the old woman said, clucking her tongue sharply. 

“Thankfully, my friends and I were away from the city when it happened,” Ignis assured her, turning back to face her. Her wrinkled face lit up at that and she took one of his hands, patting it in a motherly fashion. 

“Good. That’s good to hear,” she said kindly, her eyes crinkling as she smiled up at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

“I trust you were not injured?” he asked, a bit surprised to find that he was genuinely worried. He had tried not to let himself become sentimental about anyone they met out here, where beasts and Imperials alike could end a life so suddenly and senselessly, but this old woman had endeared herself to him without any effort at all. It was a feeling he was somewhat familiar with, and one he had absolutely no defense against. 

“No, no, just the window,” she promised him and finally released his hand to move back to her low stool behind the counter. “Is there something I can help you with, dear, or did you just come to chat with an old lady and escape the heat for a while?” she asked, laughing good naturedly at herself. 

“Actually, there was something, Dr. Olmstead,” he said, stepping forward to stand before the counter. 

“Call me Freya, please,” she replied, waving away the title as though it were a bad smell. “I hope your friend woke up alright? You didn’t call so I assumed everything had worked itself out.” 

For a moment Ignis was at a loss, before he remembered calling on Dr. Olmstead—Freya—to check on Noct after his collapse. The incident felt so long ago now. He smiled. 

“No, he is quite recovered. This is about another friend of mine. You might remember I brought him with me to refill a prescription?” 

“Oh, yes!” Freya said with a sage nod. “The little blond boy. He was such a sweet thing. How is he fairing, the poor dear? I don’t know his history, but with everything that’s happened lately I suspect he might need to change the dosage of his medication.” Her obvious and quite personal concern was touching. If possible, Ignis found that he liked her even more. 

“Well,” he began, digging through the pouch at his hip. “Unfortunately, we suffered a mishap and lost his pills, so we decided to try something new.” He brought out the curative and set it on the counter for her to inspect. “This was made with some of the passion flower tea that you gave him.” 

Freya dug under the counter and retrieved a small pair of gold-rimmed glasses that sat on the edge of her nose in miniature half-moons. She drew the bottle up and examined it, holding it up to the light to see the color. 

“How interesting,” she commented. “I was never gifted with elemancy myself, but I’m obviously aware of its medicinal uses. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen it applied to a chronic mental disorder before, though.” She hummed to herself and set the vial back down, looking up at Ignis over her glasses. “The results?” 

“It appears to take effect much faster than the pills and Prompto claims it makes him feel ‘better than he has in years,’” Ignis reported. “However,” and here he frowned down at the little vial, “it wears off just as suddenly as it takes effect and Prompto does not react well. He called it ‘rebound anxiety.’” Freya considered his words and nodded, slowly removing her glasses. 

“I would suspect that the rebound effect is due in part to the stimulants used as the base for most curatives,” she said, considering. “But if he feels as good as you say he does, I would be tempted to give it another try.” She glanced up at him, looking for confirmation. 

“I had hoped to make another effort and attempt to lessen the negative effects,” Ignis admitted. Freya grinned up at him. 

“You’re not afraid to experiment, I see. Excellent.” She dropped down from her stool to wander along a shelf behind her, carefully examining the bottles as she went. “I may dispense the pills, but that doesn’t mean I prefer them. They’re only experiments in themselves, you see, and what works for one person never seems to work for another.” She huffed and shook her head. “But, whatever works, I always say, and if this is working for your Prompto then let’s see how we can make it better!” 

Ignis was suddenly glad for her turned back and the overall darkness of the shop as he felt the heat of a blush creep onto his cheeks. He coughed into his sleeve and thought he’d managed to school his coloring back to normal by the time she returned with two bottles. 

“Here,” she said, laying them out next to the vial. Ignis’ phone buzzed in his pocket, but he silenced it when he saw Noct’s number, turning his full attention back to Freya. “Here are some fresh passion flower leaves and petals,” she said, shaking one bottle. “They should be more potent for your purposes than the dried tea leaves were. And this,” she touched the other bottle, “is Duscae lavender. It should help the effects wax and wane more gradually.” Ignis’ phone buzzed again once, indicating that he had a voicemail. 

“As I said before, I’m no expert in elemancy, but upping the quality and quantity of the passion flower and adding the lavender should help even out the effect of the underlying stimulant,” Freya finished, grinning to herself. She pushed the bottles towards him. 

Ignis took out his journal and flipped to a clean page, jotting down her assessment of the ingredients. He showed her a few simple elemancy calculations and together they poured over a few variations, considering the most effective mix of ingredients. “My, this is like using math to mix tea, isn’t it?” she laughed at one point, understanding the concept but lost on the symbols and equations that Ignis was creating with clean flicks of his pen. Finally, Freya leaned back and nodded, pleased with the final formula they had settled on.   

“Now you give that a try and tell me how it goes,” she said with a wide grin. Ignis was already reaching for his wallet but she waved him off, blowing a raspberry. 

“No, no, no. This is in the name of science and good health!” Freya cried, throwing her arms up like an excited child. The sudden passion was so familiar that it startled Ignis to see it coming from this old woman. 

“I must insist,” Ignis started to protest, only to be cut off by a firm shake of the old woman’s head. 

“Let’s see if it works first, and then we can think about how you can repay me. If you still insist.” There was a twinkle in her eye as she threw his own words back at him. 

“You are too kind,” Ignis said with a light chuckle. Her enthusiasm was infectious. “I will certainly let you know what we come up with.” 

“See that you do,” Freya said, the words stern despite her smile. She raised herself up on her toes to carefully drop the bottles into Ignis’ bag while Ignis replaced the curative in his satchel. “And say hello to the little dear for me, will you?” 

“Of course,” Ignis assured her, accepting the bag as it was pushed towards him. 

“Alright then, go on. Run along,” Freya said, shooing him away with both hands. “You’ve spent half the afternoon cooped up in here with an old woman. It’s not good for someone so young and talented.” Ignis nearly blushed again, chuckling as he smiled down at her. 

“Until next time, then,” he said, watching as she came around the counter once more to yank the door opened for him. The bell clanged noisily above them. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” she said and waved him out before closing the door behind him. Ignis shook his head and chuckled to himself even as he started back down the narrow alley leading to the set of stairs that would eventually wind their way back towards the center of town. Late afternoon was turning to evening and the city was beginning to come alive again. It seemed that even an Imperial raid couldn’t silence the musicians that poured onto the street corners, tuning instruments and getting ready to fill the air with vibrant melodies as soon as the evening lights kicked on. 

Shifting his bag in his grip, Ignis pulled his phone out of his pocket and was greeted with the little blinking light indicating he had a voicemail. As he thumbed in the code to unlock his phone he noted how rare it was for Noct to bother to leave a voicemail. Or to call at all, really, rather than text. That thought made him stop halfway up the stairs, causing a few people behind him to grumble and push rudely past him. He muttered a halfhearted apology in their wake and pressed his back against the wall as he hit play and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Ignis,” Noct’s voice was unusually tight and clipped, a no nonsense tone that he rarely adopted outside of battle. And there was a strange sound in the background that Ignis couldn’t quite make out. “I don’t know where the hell you are but you need to get back here. Quick.” The sound came again before the message cut off. Something like a gasp. Or a sob. 

Ignis didn’t realize he was running until he was forcing himself between the couple that had passed him earlier, offering no apologies this time to their cries of outrage as he took the steps two and three at a time. He cursed under his breath as he skipped down a short flight of stairs only to turn and bound up another one. He should have taken more note of the time. He should have known the curative would wear off by the afternoon. 

He should never have left Prompto alone in the first place. 

The muscles in his legs burned. Since the last time he’d slept he’d spent hours on a chocobo, followed by an all-night battle and several more hours driving after that (he refused to use cruise control as it would only make him less alert). Now, running full tilt along the final stretch of the main thoroughfare towards the hotel, his legs fairly trembled with the effort. He ignored it, though. So focused on his goal that he only felt it as a distant pain. 

He barely slowed when he hit the lobby of the hotel, ignoring the startled cry from the girl behind the desk as he leapt up the stairs and only finally slowed as he reached his room. He knocked, rather than waste the precious seconds it would have taken to fish out the keycard. Noct pulled the door opened a moment later, looking two parts terrified and one part furious. 

“Where have you been?” he hissed, even as he stepped aside to let Ignis in. Ignis entered, hastily setting his bag aside as he surveyed the situation. Prompto was curled up on his side, back to the door. His entire body was trembling and only his hair was visible, his face pressed hard into the pillows. He was breathing in shaky starts and stops that told Ignis he’d been crying for some time. He was the very picture of misery. 

“He said he lost his pills? When did that happen? And then he had a total meltdown and I didn’t know what to do.” Noct had continued rambling while Ignis assessed the damage, something the Prince only did when he was completely out of sorts. Ignis finally turned to him, laying a hand on Noct’s shoulder. Noct fell quiet, half-glaring at him. 

“You did well simply by staying with him,” Ignis said gently. “Thank you, Noct. I believe I can handle things from here, but I will require your help tomorrow on a small task.” Making a new batch of curatives was now Ignis’ very first priority, after settling Prompto. Noct glanced from Ignis to the bed and back again and finally nodded.

“Okay, sure. He’s gonna be alright, isn’t he?” Worry was creeping into Noct’s voice and Ignis squeezed his shoulder in comfort. A panic attack was no easy thing to witness. 

“Yes. He will be fine. Get some rest and I will see you in the morning.” 

Noct looked like he wanted to say something else, but finally he just nodded and glanced at Prompto once more before heading for the door. As soon as the Prince was gone, Ignis retrieved the last vial of the curatives he had made and went to the bed. Prompto moved like a sleepwalker, but he responded readily enough to Ignis’ touch and it wasn’t hard to get him to roll over and drink the last curative, thought the effort of it made the blond splutter and cough. Ignis watched the golden sparks dance across Prompto’s pale skin and held him in the crook of one arm, running gloved fingers through hair that was flat and deflated without the usual gel to help it stand on end. _  
_

_You never should have left,_ he thought again, aching to see Prompto like this. His earlier anger was already forgotten, had been the moment he’d heard Noct’s voicemail. Maybe even before that, while planning how to improve Prompto’s wellbeing with Freya. How could any argument be important enough to justify _this_? 

Prompto’s eyes finally fluttered opened, sparkling blue rimmed with red, and Ignis felt some of the tension leave his body when those eyes met his own. He had seen Prompto glassy-eyed and lost to him while in the throes of poisoned delirium. It was eerily similar to the way Prompto looked trapped in the hold of his panic. It was simply another kind of poison. So knowing that the blond was looking at him and _seeing_ him was a blessing all on its own. 

“My deepest apologies,” Ignis whispered, praying that the words conveyed how deeply sorry he was. He never should have allowed this to happen. “I didn’t even think of the time.” Prompto only stared at him for a moment, a fine shudder running through his body. His pink tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. 

“You-you’re still angry at me,” Prompto whispered. Ignis almost had to look away. He was coming perilously close to losing his own self-control. He knew what it was to have your heart broken by someone you loved, and that was the look in Prompto’s tired eyes now. 

“That’s not important right now,” Ignis said, somehow keeping his voice steady, soothing. Prompto needed him to be a rock right now, so he would be, no matter how much he felt like little more than a hollow stage prop. Prompto squirmed and tried unsuccessfully to push him away, but Ignis only held him tighter despite how much the action hurt. 

“It is,” Prompto was arguing. “I can’t be what you want. I can’t just shoot people.” Prompto had turned away from him, staring without seeing at the television across the room. Ignis let his eyes close, breathing through his nose to keep himself calm. Because wasn’t that exactly what he had been thinking earlier in the day? Wasn’t it precisely what he’d planned on trying to explain to the gunner? 

But Prompto already knew, and already felt defeated by it. 

“We don’t need to discuss this right now,” Ignis whispered, more for himself than for Prompto. Guilt was already clawing at his throat. Guilt at the fact that he never gave the younger man enough credit. Prompto was well aware of what he was and what he wasn’t. He didn’t need Ignis to remind him of the fact. 

“I can’t shoot people,” Prompto continued. “And if that makes me a bad Crownsguard, then I guess I am. And if it makes you hate me…then I’ll deal with that too.” 

“Prompto,” Ignis murmured, and then he had to stop himself or be in real danger of losing out to his emotions. He’d left to try and prevent this. To try and stop Prompto from feeling he was…less. And instead he had only accomplished the very thing he’d set out to avoid and hurt Prompto even more in the process. 

_You fool_ , he thought viciously to himself. Hastily, he tugged the glove off his free hand with his teeth and laid his fingers against the clammy skin of Prompto’s cheek. Once again, Prompto moved with him willingly, allowing himself to be turned back to look at Ignis. When their eyes finally met again Prompto’s gaze was so forlorn it tore at Ignis’ very being. 

“I don’t hate you,” Ignis said, making it a vow. He let his fingers stroke Prompto’s cheek. “And I would never ask you to be anything other than what you are.” 

_Because what you are is beautiful and courageous and so much more than you’ll ever realize._

Prompto sat up and Ignis let him, though he kept one arm behind the blond in case his shaking arms gave out. Prompto fixed him a look that was suddenly much more focused than he had been only moments ago. 

“Then prove it,” Prompto challenged. Caught off guard, Ignis could only stare at the sudden shift in attitude. Then Prompto’s lips were on his and he was responding out of pure instinct, one hand gripping Prompto’s good shoulder. His breathing was noticeably quickened when Prompto broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull back, instead speaking directly against Ignis’ lips so that every word was a ticklish contact that sent shivers down the Advisor’s spine. “Prove it to me. I want to feel you.” 

Ignis’ breath caught. But even then he hesitated. He wanted this, desperately even, but would it be right to do anything with Prompto so soon on the heels of a panic attack? Would it be taking advantage? On the other hand, Prompto was the one offering. He swallowed and leaned in to kiss Prompto again, reveling in the feeling of Prompto’s soft, warm lips against his. His fingers itched to touch and he tugged off his other glove to let them run along Prompto’s body, from his hair down to his sides. 

His body was already reacting, even to this simple contact. Likely because he’d been craving it for days. Ever since Prompto had finally awoken from his poisoning. It would have been inappropriate to indulge in Wiz’s guest bedroom but it didn’t mean he hadn’t ached to do it anyway. He wanted to feel that Prompto was still here, still with him, heart beating and breathing and whole. 

Though Prompto was kissing him back, shivering under his touch, he sensed that Prompto’s tired body needed a slight push to match the flare of desire already pooling in Ignis’ stomach. He was secretly proud that he managed not to smirk as he pulled back from the kiss and shifted to whisper lowly in Prompto’s ear. 

“Do you have any idea what it did to me, seeing that woman on top of you?” 

 

It didn’t last long, but as Ignis watched Prompto cry out through the lingering haze of his own release he knew this was what they had both needed. In fact, sexual frustration may well have been at the heart of their argument. Perhaps not entirely, but Ignis wasn’t ruling it out. Prompto whined almost pitifully when Ignis pulled away to clean them up, curling in on himself, and the sight was a mixture of adorable and heartbreaking. 

He opted to simply strip Prompto of his stained shirt and hastily changed his own clothes. Even so, when he returned a few minutes later Prompto latched onto him as if he’d been afraid Ignis was never coming back. Maybe he had a right to be afraid. As Ignis wrapped his arms around Prompto, pulling him if possible even closer, he vowed never to leave during a fight again. He’d make the same promise to Prompto tomorrow, he decided. Even if he did end up losing his temper, it was better than this. Better by far. 

“Love you,” Prompto muttered sleepily and the other was asleep before Ignis even had a chance to react. He smiled gently down at the sleeping blond and kissed his forehead, burying his nose in Prompto’s soft flaxen hair. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered back, not caring that Prompto couldn’t hear him. It was as if the words were a cue to his body because all at once the exhaustion of the last two days was a physical weight pressing down on him and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Habits long ingrained were hard to break, and despite his exhaustion Ignis blinked against the morning light streaming in through their window. He had fallen asleep with his glasses on and now they dug painfully into the side of his nose. He pushed himself up on one arm to readjust the frames and heard a soft whimper from the body pressed close against his. 

Glancing down, he found that Prompto was still curled into him with a hint of desperation to his body language. His fingers had loosed their hold on Ignis’ shirt, but his arms were curled limply between them and his legs were drawn up, leaving Prompto curled in a ball against Ignis’ chest. Ignis reached out to run his fingers through Prompto’s sleep tousled hair and the gunner let out a soft sigh, relaxing under the touch. Ignis wouldn’t be surprised if the exhausted blond slept most of the day. 

He, however, had tasks to complete. One in particular. Careful not to disturb his bedmate again, Ignis reached for the phone he had left on the bedside table. He suspected that Gladio’s regular training regimen would have similarly awoken the Shield, despite any lingering exhaustion, and Ignis wasn’t about to leave Prompto when there was a chance that he might wake up alone. Gladio answered his text almost immediately and Ignis breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned down to kiss Prompto’s forehead, earning a happy little murmur, before carefully climbing out of the bed and packing the comforter tight around Prompto in the hopes that the gunner wouldn’t notice the difference. 

Prompto, thank the gods, remained asleep. 

Ignis dressed for the day and retrieved the bag of odds and ends he had abandoned the night before. Gladio met him at the door, a book tucked under one of his arms. 

“He’s still asleep,” Gladio said, waving his thumb back towards his own room. 

“That’s fine. I have a few supplies to gather yet,” Ignis said, taking the keycard that Gladio offered him. 

“How’s he doing?” Gladio asked next, nodding into the room. 

“Sleeping,” Ignis said, letting some of the wariness he felt creep into his tone. “Hopefully he will remain that way. I only…” 

“Didn’t want him to wake up alone and freak out. I gotcha,” Gladio said, patting Ignis’ shoulder. Ignis wasn’t sure what to make of the observation, but then Gladio was striding past him to claim one of the chairs at the small table, opening his book without further comment. Ignis only sighed and went to transfer his bag to the other room. 

Noct was, indeed, still sleeping, and Ignis let him be. He needed to make another trip to the market and it was nearly an hour by the time he’d made the trek there and back, his shirt uncomfortably dampened by heat and strain when he returned with a case of energy drinks and an equal number of magic flasks. Neither had been cheap, but he considered both a necessity as far as their budgetary constraints were concerned. 

When he returned to the room it was to find Noct poking curiously around in Ignis’ bag. The Advisor ignored him and deposited his new purchases on the room’s table, even as Noct looked up sharply. 

“Where’s Gladio?” Noct wondered around a yawn. 

“Next door, keeping Prompto company,” Ignis answered, and then added, “who is perfectly fine and still asleep,” at Noct’s worried glance. Noct’s face cleared immediately at that and he drifted over to the table. 

“What’s all this?” he asked, gesturing to Ignis’ supplies. 

“I believe I told you I would need your help today,” Ignis said, taking his journal out of his breast pocket. He flipped to the appropriate page and set it down on the table. Noct dropped into one of the chairs and dragged it closer, looking over the page as Ignis retrieved the bottles of passion flowers and Duscae lavender from his bag. 

“What is this?” Noct finally asked, raising his eyes from the page. 

“I attempted to substitute a curative for Prompto’s pills. The results, however, were somewhat subpar. I am confident that with this new formula and your greater skills we might make a better go at it.” 

Noct frowned slightly. 

“What’s wrong with his pills?” he asked. 

“Prompto seems to prefer the curative,” Ignis replied simply. It was a good enough reason for him, and he knew it would be good enough for Noct as well. Predictably, the Prince shrugged, but then he leaned back, watching Ignis for a moment with his arms crossed. 

“You really care about him, right?” he asked suddenly. “I mean, this isn’t just some fling, because Prompto doesn’t do flings.” 

“Neither do I,” Ignis said dryly and Noct actually blushed at that, glancing away. 

“Yeah, well…it’s just that you’re both my friends and I don’t wanna have to sort out whose ass I have to kick if you break each other’s hearts, alright?” Noct muttered. He looked up and met Ignis’ gaze again. “Prompto’s different from…well everybody. He’s not like Rey.” 

“I may have noticed the differences,” Ignis retorted, tugging off his glasses to fish out a cloth from his pocket and buff the lenses. Noct knew he disliked talking about his college boyfriend. 

“Yeah. For starters, Rey was a dick,” Noct replied, completely unfazed by Ignis’ glare. “I never understood why you got so messed up over that douche.” 

“That’s enough,” Ignis said sharply, sliding his glasses back in place. Noct met his gaze unflinchingly. 

“Well whatever, but Prompto’s different. He’s…honestly, he’s probably one of the most insecure guys I’ve ever met, not that that’s his fault. But you have to tell him when he’s doing something right, or he’s always going to assume he’s screwing up somehow.” Noct’s tone clearly indicated that the trait would have been unbearably annoying in anyone else. Prompto, however, was an exception, for whatever reason. Ignis could relate to the feeling. 

“I mean, it makes sense I guess,” Noct said, dropping his gaze back to the table. “You know he’s an outsider, right? Like it wasn’t obvious from his looks but I’m guessing you’ve seen the thing on his wrist. I mean…since you guys have…you know…” 

“Engaged in intercourse?” Ignis replied, unable to stop a small smirk from curling his lips. 

“Yeah. That,” Noct said in disgust. 

“I have seen it,” Ignis admitted. “Though he keeps it hidden even during—,” 

“Okay, I don’t need to know!” Noct gasped, throwing his hands up in defense. This time Ignis had to cover his mouth with one hand to smother the chuckle that threatened to escape. Noct shook his head with a grimace and dropped his arms. Then he glanced up. “Hey, don’t tell him I know about it,” he said. “I don’t think he remembers. We had a class together way back when before he started hiding it. I don’t think he knows I know about it.” 

Ignis drew up the table’s second chair, intrigued now. Noct was quiet by nature, always had been, but now he was fidgeting with one of the energy drinks, clearly carefully picking out words in his head. 

“It was after I came home from Tenebrea,” Noct finally said. “We were in the same class for just a few weeks, when the tutors decided I should try and go back to public school right before summer break.” Noct set the energy drink aside and settled for running his fingers along the grain of the wooden table instead. 

“The teacher was a total douche. I might not have even noticed Prompto, except we read this book.” Noct frowned at the table. “You know, the one with the magic kid and the fairy and the pirate and the ticking alligator?” 

“Crocodile,” Ignis corrected him quietly. His stomach flipped even though there was nothing in it. “ _Peter Pan_.” 

“Yeah, that was it,” Noct agreed, nodding at the table. “Anyway, Prompto and this other girl in our class loved it. She was really tan and had this bright red hair.” 

“Another outsider,” Ignis surmised, beginning to suspect where this story was going. 

“Right,” Noct agreed. “So she and Prompto were in love with this book and they both raised their hands every time the teacher asked a question, but the guy would never call on them. Even if they were the only ones with their hands up, he would totally ignore them. He had a thing against outsiders.” Noct glared, hunching his shoulders as he leaned more of his weight on the table. 

“This went on for days. After the second day, the girl got the hint, but you know Prompto. He was as enthusiastic as ever, never mind that the guy was clearly never going to call on him. Then, on the fourth day we were talking about the book, the teacher asked a question and only Prompto knew the answer. The guy got super pissed and started lecturing the class about not reading the book, and here’s Prompto practically vibrating out of his chair and waving his hand. You get the picture.” 

Ignis did. Prompto was as excitable as a puppy when the topic was something he was passionate about. 

“So the teacher keeps going and finally, I guess Prompto had enough, because he stood up, still raising his hand.” Noct snorted at the memory, but his smile was short-lived. “The teacher shouted at him to sit down—the first thing he’d said to Prompto since I’d been in that class, and instead of sitting Prompto shouted out the answer to his question.” 

Noct broke off and the silence that hung between them was almost electrically charged. 

“What came of it?” Ignis finally forced himself to ask, despite not really wanting to know the answer. 

“The guy kicked Prompto out of class. The whole next week, any time we were discussing the book Prompto had to go stand in the hall.” Noct sat back in his chair and tipped his chin up to stare at the ceiling. “Then break rolled around and we were never in the same home room again until high school. But I saw him around, and it was after that that Prompto started wearing that sweatband thing.  You remember that horrible thing, right?” Noct shook his head, not waiting for Ignis respond. “I had to get him those bracelets when we graduated. I didn’t have a choice. That thing needed to be burned. But, anyway, I never saw Prompto look, well, happy again after that. He was always sulking around with his camera.” He leveled his gaze again on Ignis, all traces of nostalgia gone. “I always thought I’d break that asshole teacher’s jaw if I came across him again.” 

“I could not agree with you more heartily,” Ignis said, locking eyes with Noct. Ignis never made idle threats, and they both knew it. 

“Prom’s been through a lot, and that’s just the stuff I know about. I know there’s more. He doesn’t like to talk about it, though.” Noct sighed and gestured at the supplies on the table. “And you’re sure this will help? Because I don’t know if you guys had a fight or what set him off, but I don’t _ever_ want to see what I saw last night again.” Noct actually shivered, curling the hand resting on the table into a fist. He eyed Ignis. “And that’s happened before, hasn’t it?” 

“This should help, that’s the idea, yes,” Ignis assured him and then he decided to answer Noct’s second question as well. “And yes, it has happened before.” 

“Gods,” Noct muttered, shaking his head. “All these years and I never even knew.” He raised his eyes back to Ignis. “I meant what I said before, you know. Prompto’s not like Rey. He’s not going to demand things of you or even tell you what he wants half the time. You’re gonna have to take the lead most of the time.” 

“I had figured that much out by now,” Ignis assured him, somewhat wryly. 

“Just giving you some friendly advice, jeeze,” Noct grumbled, looking over the formula carefully written out in Ignis’ journal again. He took both of the bottles and opened them in turn, smelling each. Then he frowned down at the journal, tapping a finger absently against the table. 

“Something the matter?” Ignis asked finally. 

“I’m guessing you worked this out with somebody?” Noct asked. 

“A local doctor, yes,” Ignis assured him, but he was beginning to feel uneasy. “What is it?” 

“Well, if it was a doctor than I trust the balance it’s just…” Noct sniffed at the bottle of lavender again and pulled a face. “Prom’s going to have to drink this shit every day, right? Well, I hate to say it, but lavender tastes like soap and _this_ ,” he held up the bottle of passion flower, “smells like chocobo feed. You’re the cook. Isn’t there something we can add to this to make it _not_ taste like a chocobo went through a carwash?” 

Ignis looked over the ingredients they had. Prompto hadn’t complained about the taste of the previous batch, but he couldn’t deny that Noct was right. If there was a way to make the curatives more palatable it was the least they could do. He considered the problem, tapping one finger against his lips. He let his eyes wander the room in thought and stopped when they hit the bag by the door. 

Standing smoothly, Ignis crossed the room and retrieved the jar of brutal bee honey. Honey was soothing all on its own and surely would only help the effects of the curative. They might need to rework the formula, but only minimally. Noct eyed him as he came back and set the jar on the table. The Prince picked up the honey, hefting it in his hand. 

“You know,” he said slowly, “the dessert I had in Tenebrea definitely didn’t have honey in it.” He glanced up at Ignis and smiled. “It was a good thought though.” 

“And what makes you so sure I purchased it for you?” Ignis replied smoothly as he reclaimed his chair. 

_Drat._

Noct only set the honey aside and held out a hand for Ignis’ pen, which Ignis handed over wordlessly. Noct considered the page before crossing out a few symbols and reworking the formula to incorporate the honey. When he was done, he sat back and nodded. 

“Alright,” he said, cracking his knuckles and reaching for the first energy drink. “Let’s see how this goes.” 

It took them most of the morning to create a batch of curatives large enough to satisfy Ignis. There were nearly two dozen in all and Noct was exhausted by the time they had finished. Ignis had preferred for Noct to do the work, with his command of elemancy being so much more potent and exact. Towards the end he had offered to help when Noct was clearly flagging, but the younger man just waved him away and kept working. 

“Great, now I need another nap,” Noct complained, stretching his arms above his head when they were finally done. Something in the movement caught Ignis’ attention and he paused in collecting their leftover ingredients to turn his attention fully to his dark haired charge. 

“Noct,” Ignis began, but faulted. Some primal part of him felt the need to apologize to the Prince. Noct was his charge and his responsibility. Ignis had been raised to understand that Noct was the sun and he was merely a planet orbiting him, offering help and advice whenever necessary. But his world had changed, his orbit disrupted by the blond haired broken boy sleeping in the next room. He cleared his throat instead, knowing Noct wouldn’t understand. He would only say that he was happy for his friends. Noct was no idiot, but all too often he failed to understand the minute details of the relationships that spooled from him like spider silk. 

“One of your buttons has come loose,” Ignis observed, gesturing to a button hanging by a literal thread at Noct’s throat. Noct glanced down at himself, failed to see the button, and shrugged. 

“So?” he asked. 

“So, perhaps you should consider fixing it,” Ignis replied, giving Noct his most unamused look. 

“Meh,” Noct mumbled, simply shrugging again. Ignis sighed through his nose and pushed his glasses up. 

“Give it here,” he demanded, holding out a hand. “I might as well save us some bickering and fix it myself.” 

“You know me so well, Specs,” Noct said with a grin, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it to Ignis’ waiting hand. Ignis caught it deftly and folded the garment over one arm. He only shook his head, as he carefully transferred the newly created vials of curatives to his bag and stacked it atop the depleted pallet of energy drinks. Noct granted him the courtesy of getting the door for him, though he paused in the hallway before opening the door to Ignis’ room. 

“You guys are happy, right? You and Prom?” he asked quietly. Ignis shifted the weight in his arms giving Noct a moment to look at him. The Prince kept his eyes averted, however. 

“We are as happy as anyone could hope to be with everything that has happened,” Ignis answered as honestly as he could. Noct nodded and unlocked Ignis’ door. “Good,” was all he said before he turned and headed back to his own room without another word. 

Ignis shouldered the door opened and looked up to find Gladio precisely where he’d left him. He set his burden down gently on the floor and glanced at the bed. Prompto had shifted onto his other side, but still appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Ignis moved to Gladio’s side so they could talk without disturbing the sleeping gunner. He dropped Noct’s jacket beside his bag on the second bed as he went. 

“He seemed to be having a nightmare, earlier,” Gladio whispered once Ignis was close enough. “I thought he’d wake himself up, but he didn’t.” 

Ignis nodded. “Thank you for your help,” he whispered back. Gladio only shrugged, closing his book. 

“I’m assuming you guys were making him something to help out?” Gladio asked, eyeing the pallet for energy drinks Ignis had brought in with him. When Ignis nodded Gladio gave a sharp nod of his own. “Good. Whatever happened in here last night scared the piss out of our dear Prince Charmless. I’ve never known that kid to have trouble falling asleep, but he was wound tighter than a drum and totally wired all night.” Ignis only stared at him, honestly surprised that Noct hadn’t bothered to complain to him about it. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” Gladio said, pushing himself up from the chair and silently heading for the door.

“Thank you,” Ignis said again, pouring all of his sincerity into the words. Gladio raised an arm to show he had heard before he disappeared into the hall. 

Somewhat at a loss, Ignis wandered over to the bed, watching Prompto sleep for several minutes. He thought back over all that Noct had told him, in particular the despicable story from their elementary school days. He leaned over and ghosted his fingers against Prompto’s cheek, smiling when the younger man mumbled sleepily. 

“I will be right here when you wake up,” Ignis promised, kissing the spot that his fingers had brushed. Prompto only huffed in his sleep and shifted onto his back, burrowing deeper into his nest of blankets. 

Ignis felt he could have stood there watching him for hours, but instead he tore himself away and went to his bag. He retrieved a protein bar and his small sewing kit before taking Noct’s jacket back to the chair Gladio had so recently vacated. He barely noticed when he began to hum as he threaded the needle to set to work on Noct’s button. And he certainly didn’t realize that the melody was in fact the one that usually accompanied Prompto’s nonsense chocobo rhyme.


End file.
